


Of Abstruse Affections and Curious Consequences

by undergrounddaydreams



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Humor, One Shot, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undergrounddaydreams/pseuds/undergrounddaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah has a weakness—she just can't stop playing the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Abstruse Affections and Curious Consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanseMacabre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanseMacabre/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth. I just like to play there. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. For entertainment purposes and love of the source.

People say such nice things at funerals—things they had been too afraid to say in person, or things that made them feel better about themselves that they didn't really mean at all. Sarah scowled at the small misfit congregation and had no doubt which it was. She had a few words of her own to say, only she couldn't, not ever again.

The Wiseman stood at the head of the group reading from a tattered book, his hat humming along in a nonsensical jumble of melodies. Sarah thought she heard what suspiciously sounded like Bowie's "Life is a Circus" in there somewhere. After what must have been nearly half an hour, the Wiseman tucked the book in his sleeve and finished with, "We shall miss those boorish, discordant tones, but to everything an end."

The hat finished his final note with a snap of his beak. "And overdue at that. Party at the pub!"

"Mm. Quite, quite." The Wiseman clapped his hands. "I believe a brandy is just the thing. Dreadful weather for a funeral."

Wind blew cold from the north and fat grey clouds hung low in the sky, and it suited Sarah just fine. She was perfectly content to wallow and sulk and feel sorry for herself. She could have done without the rain, having forgotten her umbrella. She pulled up the collar of her coat and focused her discontent on the mound of dirt undecorated save for a small pile of rocks.

"Bunch of nonsense, if you ask me," Hoggle said, nudging the pile of stones with his boot.

"I thought it was nice," Sir Didymus chimed in from her other side.

"I'm just glad it's over." Sarah kneeled down and picked up one of the stones. "Ludo."

Sir Didymus patted her shoulder. "He would have wanted to be represented, my lady. To think, even now, the rocks heed his call. They are true friends, indeed."

"Yes, I suppose they are." Sarah sighed and replaced the rock. She stood, noting that only she, Didymus, and Hoggle remained, the rest having returned to the Underground, to the pub, most likely. "You guys going to the party?"

Hoggle made a disgusted sound and waved off her question as he began a lopsided hobble toward her house. She watched him for a minute, wondering if his limp had become worse since she'd last thought to notice and if perhaps he worked too hard. Sir Didymus had stayed by her side, looking up at her with a hurt expression, his whiskers drooping. "Dost thou mean to imply that we would abandon thee in your time of need? Are we not friends to the last?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Didymus. I didn't mean to imply that at all. Of course we're friends, and I'd be honored to have your company this afternoon." He looked unconvinced and she reached out to squeeze his paw. "Really."

Among what she thought were Didymus's many virtues was that he forgave as quickly as he censured, and he perked up at her reassurances. "Well then, shall we adjourn for repast?"

"You go on ahead. I'm just going to walk for a bit."

"Allow me to escort you."

"No, that's okay. I just have some things to work out in my head. I should be only a few minutes behind."

"If thou art sure, my lady . . ."

"Yes, I am, but thank you. I won't be long."

Sir Didymus whistled for Ambrosius, who had been heckling some ducks by the pond. The sheep dog looked up at the call and made a bounding loop to where they stood, swinging wide to get a fly-by snuggle from Sarah before coming to a stop at his master's side. Settling into the saddle strapped to the back of his loyal steed, Sir Didymus turned a final imploring gaze on her. "Be safe, my lady. Daylight fades swiftly in these coldest of months, and the ruffians will be about."

"I will. I promise." Seemingly satisfied, they took off toward her house, and Sarah waved after them, smiling about the "ruffians." Sir Didymus would always be a knight at heart, even when he no longer actively played the role.

Sarah pushed her hands into her pockets, setting off in the opposite direction, her thoughts turning to Ludo. They weighed heavily on her shoulders, and she let her head hang, staring at her feet and kicking pebbles as she made her way down Main Street. It was all her fault. She just had to up the stakes. She replayed the events in her head, analyzing everything that was said and everything that happened, noting all the places she may have misstepped, the most glaring being that she should never have let Ludo take her place. What kind of person does that? A terrible one. She was a terrible person and a terrible friend. How could she—

A horn blared and Sarah jumped back, so caught up in her inner monologuing she hadn't realized she'd wandered into the street. The driver of the car flashed her the middle finger and kept driving. Sarah waved and shouted an apology. She probably deserved that. She hadn't been paying attention. More to the point, she never seemed to pay attention. Her stepmother was always telling her she was too flighty and headstrong, and she was right. And now her friends were bearing the brunt of consequences that should be hers alone. If getting flipped off by a stranger was the worst she was going to get today, she was getting off easy. Too easy.

Though, she wasn't quite sure getting mowed down by a Honda was a justified punishment, despite her many failings. Sarah regrouped, determined to watch where she was going for the last leg of her walk, and turned right, her house one street up. It was a comfort to know her friends were waiting for her, even after what had happened. She was grateful and she didn't deserve them. She was going to have to do better. She was going to have to make it right. Somehow.

What had been step up from a drizzle became a downpour just as she reached her street. Sarah bolted the last couple of blocks and up the stairs to her front door; she'd never been more happy to see it. Even though the bungalow had been hers for only a few weeks, she'd been surprised at how quickly it had started to feel like home.

She walked in to the sound of her two friends bickering—over something ridiculous, she was sure. Lingering in the entryway to catch her breath, Sarah kicked off her loafers, swapping them for her favorite fuzzy slippers. She breathed in deep; the smell of spices and citrus, and something else she couldn't quite place, whispered promises all around her. She followed her nose to the kitchen, finding her friends at the source of the culinary siren song. She sagged against the doorframe, taking in the scene and dripping water on the linoleum. "What's all this?"

Wrapped in the ruffled apron Karen had given her as a housewarming gift, Hoggle waved a dismissive hand from where he stood on a stepstool pushed up to the stove. "Nothin'."

Sarah padded into the room to lean on the island separating the kitchen from the alcove where she'd put a small eat-in table. The countertop was covered with platters and bowls filled to overflowing with breads and soups and all sorts of dishes savory and sweet. She didn't know what it all was, but it smelled delicious. She raised her eyebrows. "Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me. It looks like I have an all-star chef for a friend and I didn't even know it."

Hoggle blushed and shifted on the stool, fixing his attention on the large stockpot simmering in front of him. "I already told ya it weren't nothin'. No sense in carryin' on like it is. Gotta eat, even with the funeral and all."

Sarah smiled despite her bad temper. _Embarrassing Hoggle – one of life's small joys_.

Sir Didymus popped up by her side. "My lady, you're soaked to the bone!"

"It's only a little rain. It'll dry."

He huffed. "Well, I . . . I don't think—"

Sarah picked up a kitchen towel from the countertop and dried her face, running it over her hair and squeezing the water out of her ponytail. "Any better?"

He eyed her critically and she seemed to come up wanting. "Perhaps a nice cup of tea?" He guided her to a chair at the table and poured her a generous cup from the teapot. Sarah slumped into the seat, running the towel down the front of her coat to soak up some of the excess water.

He pushed a plate of pastries toward her. "And some biscuits."

Sarah tossed the towel into an empty chair and wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "Thank you, Didymus, for the tea, but I don't really have much of an appetite. I think I'm too depressed to eat." She sank onto the table, her arms crossing around the mug, hugging it toward her. She rested her chin on the rim, staring at the scones as the steam washed over her face. They were still warm, the glaze glistening and pooling on the plate, the heat swirling with the smell of sweetness and orange spice. She sighed. "He wasn't even there, Didymus . . ."

Sir Didymus patted her leg. "There, there, my lady. Perhaps he was unavoidably detained?"

"Couldn't be bothered, more like," Hoggle said.

Sarah sat up and nodded. "Exactly." The move upright made her feel dizzy, and she reached for a scone, trying to remember the last time she ate. "Not that I wanted him there. It's the principle of the thing. Though, I am a little surprised he passed up the opportunity to rub my nose in it."

"Perhaps you misunderstand him, my lady. If you only—"

Hoggle snorted and Sarah agreed with the sentiment. "You give him too much credit, Didymus. Not everyone shares your values of honor and decency, and Jareth most definitely does not. How you put up with him all the time, I'll never understand."

Sir Didymus slid a desert plate underneath the scone she was waving about indignantly. "It is not only I, my lady . . . but never mind that. How about I run you a nice warm bath? Yes, a nice long soak and a good brushing. Surely a little nourishment and a cleaning up will set you to rights."

Before she could protest, Sir Didymus set off on his quest, humming down the hallway. She heard the water turn on in the master bath and shook her head.

"It ain't right," Hoggle said. "All that time with 'is Majesty, and look what it's done to 'im. He's gone wrong in the head, that's what."

"Yeah, well, it's a little weird, I'll give you that, but he seems happy enough. I guess I prefer this to him gallivanting around on made-up quests. He's not exactly a young pup anymore. I'd worry about him with his sense of smell and lack of self-preservation. He's safer this way, you know?"

"Ain't nothin' safe about it. And now Jareth's got you addled too, hangin' around with him like you does. Ain't got no sense, the both of ya."

"Hey. Hoggle, come on, that's not f—" She let the word drop and glared down into her tea. "It's not the same thing. I don't 'hang around with him.' It's under duress."

"You go on and keep tellin' yerself that if it makes you feel better."

"Oh, shut up."

Sir Didymus called out from her bedroom. "My lady? Lavender or Vanilla Bean?"

"Bean, please!" she called back. She sighed and looked over at Hoggle. "Sorry. I didn't mean to tell you to shut up."

"Now don't you go startin' in on all that. Just . . ." He glanced back at her and waved his spoon. "You gonna eat that scone or you just gonna carry around with you all day?"

"I'm going to eat it because one of my best friends in the whole wide world made it." He grumbled something unintelligible and she smiled before taking a bite. The glaze melted on her tongue, the scone crumbling into delicate puffs of oats and sugar and poppy seeds that clung to her lips, kissing orange and cinnamon. She sighed in contentment, sitting back in her chair. "Oh my god, Hoggle, this is incredible! Where did you learn to cook like this?"

He shrugged. "You live long enough, you get bored eatin' the same stuff all the time."

"You've been holding out on me." She shoved the rest of the scone in her mouth, using her finger to pick up the crumbs as she mumbled, "What else you got over there?"

"Well, I ain't gonna serve it to ya. Get up off yer butt and see for yerself."

"Fine. If you're going to be grumpy about it . . ."

Sarah licked her fingers as she shuffled around to Hoggle's side of the island. There were fat, fluffy biscuits with orange butter and marmalade, and spicy green beans steamed fresh from the garden, dripping butter and snug with tiny orange segments and plump poached cranberries. Ham glistened in an orange-maple glaze, and orange cups cradled praline-topped sweet potatoes, their other halves filled with orange cream piped with honey.

On the plate closest to her: maki sushi crowned in orange filet. She picked up one of the nori-wrapped pieces, popping it into her mouth. She had forgotten she'd bought it and decided it should be a staple. "Mmm. Did you put egg in this?"

He glanced up to see what she was eating. "Does it taste like I put egg in it?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and looked over his shoulder into the pot he'd been fawning over since she'd walked in the door. "What's that?"

He held out the spoon for her to taste. "Here."

She eyed it suspiciously. It was brown and lumpy and looked like it might have been scooped straight out of the bog, except it smelled divine.

"Are you going to eat it or not? I ain't got all day."

"Okay, okay." She took a small taste and was pleasantly surprised. "What did you say this was?"

Hoggle went back to stirring the pot. "I didn't and it's squid."

If she hadn't already swallowed it, she would have spit it out. "Did you say _squid_?"

"Giant squid, black goat sausage, rosemary wild rice and an orange sesame sauce, if ya want to know the whole of it. And there's some olives in there, too."

" _Giant_ squid? People just don't eat giant squid!"

"They do if they ain't got no choice. If we weren't eatin' 'em, they'd be floodin' the Labyrinth before ya know it, and bringing the bog with 'em. Pretty tasty if ya do 'em right. The trick is, you gotta dunk 'em. If you don't dunk 'em first, the tentacles will seize up and there ain't nothing you can do about it then."

"That's the grossest thing I've ever heard."

"Psh. You ain't heard nothin'."

"None of that even makes sense. What are you talking about, 'they'll be flooding the Labyrinth'? I don't remember there being any squid anywhere in the Labyrinth."

Hoggle turned to look at her, his hands on his hips and the spoon dripping squid juice on the floor. "I already done told ya. Whaddya think attacked Ludo when he was down in the bog?"

Sarah stared back at him, confused. "What? Nobody told me that! What is a giant squid doing in the bog?"

"All I know is I started hearing talk a few weeks ago 'bout it being there and then baby squids started showin' up at market." Hoggle went back to stirring his stew. "My guess is it's Jareth's doin'. From what I heard, Jareth showed up when she went after Ludo, only he weren't quick enough, and, well . . . you know what happened."

Sarah sighed. "Yeah, I know." She frowned at the bounty of food spread out on the countertop. It wasn't f— She shook her head. It wasn't right that they had all of this and . . . Poor Ludo. She really was the worst friend ever. She was going to have to talk to Jareth about this giant squid business.

Her appetite gone, Sarah shuffled back to the table just as Sir Didymus bounced in. "My lady, your bath awaits. Shall I lay out a dress for you? Your new one—the blue one with the white flowers?"

Sarah offered him a faint smile as she picked up her tea, grateful it was still warm. "Thanks, Didymus. I'll be there in just a sec. Have you eaten yet? We have so much food . . ." She sipped her tea as she took stock, trying to figure out where she was going to put it all. Funny, she didn't realize she had so many—

She paused, lowering the mug to the table. "Wait a minute . . . Hoggle, where did all these oranges come from?"

Hoggle nodded toward the counter. "That basket there. With the big red bow on it."

"And Wilhelm was here and brought tea," Sir Didymus said, topping off her mug from the kettle.

The room started to teeter and Sarah grabbed the back of her chair. "What! You guys trusted that slimy little snake?" She slid to the floor as everything began to spin, the world fading in a swirl of colors. "Next time I see that worm, I'll drown him in his damn tea."

~o0O0o~

An indeterminate amount of time later, Sarah woke on a pile of hay. She struggled up onto her elbows, her head still spinning. "Ugh. Why is it every time I'm drugged, I wake up someplace filthy?" She tried to focus, her eyes drawn to the phallic monstrosity looming above her. She was on the castle grounds. _Perfect. Just perfect. This day just keeps getting better and better . . ._

After indulging in some creative swearing, she took a calming breath and decided to make the best of a bad situation. She was debating which direction would put her on the right path, when another decidedly phallic wonder slid in to dominate her field of vision. She groaned and flopped back onto the hay, crossing her arms over her face. "I am so not in the mood for this . . ."

"You're here. Splendid. I have something to show you."

He sauntered off and Sarah yelled after him. "You say that like I came here on purpose!" She wasn't exactly expecting a response, but when none was forthcoming, she sighed, throwing her arms out to the side. She stared up into the hazy, mushroom-cap sky. "Can't even help a lady up . . ." Resigned to her fate, Sarah sat up and scooched forward, feeling out the tipping point. She missed it by half an inch.

She cursed as she slid to the ground, taking half the hay with her. She just managed to stay on her feet, using what was left of the pile as support. She kicked at the hay bunched around her ankles and batted at the stalks clinging to her coat. With her new vantage point, she could see she was in front of a large building, wide square openings at both ends like a stable. She marched through the doorway.

She found Jareth just inside, mulling over an impressive collection of riding accoutrements. "Hey!" She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Where were you this morning?"

Jareth didn't bother to look up. "Busy."

"Busy? That's all you have to say? It was your stupid idea to make such a big production out of it and you weren't even there!"

"That was for you." He lifted a slender leather riding crop from the rack, flexing it in his hands. "Adding a little pomp to the circumstance. I've heard it helps with the grieving process. Closure on the chapter, so to speak."

"I wish I could close your chapter."

He turned and leaned backward against the wooden table running alongside the wall. "You could always say no . . ." He met her eyes from underneath his lashes and smiled. "But, strangely enough, you can't seem to restrain yourself."

Sarah stared back at him, excuses filtering through her head, each one brushed aside. He was right, of course. She couldn't. It was a problem. Wind gusted through the corridor; his eyes seemed to flash in glints of color through the wayward spikes of his hair.

He was a problem.

She forced herself to look away and turned her back to him, putting her hands on top of her head. "When did my life become so ridiculous?"

In a move that was distinctly Jareth, he was behind her, instantly, silently, whispering in her ear. "When you ate a peach and forgot everything but your all-consuming desire for me."

"In your dreams."

"I believe they were in yours."

She clenched her teeth to keep from rising to the bait. She refused to get pulled into that argument again. It never ended well, for her.

She felt him step away, the cool wind displacing his heat, making her shiver. Her clothes and hair were still damp from the rain, and goosebumps prickled up along her neck. She should be in a warm, vanilla-scented bath right about now . . .

She dropped her hands and turned to glare at him. "What is it with you and the drugged fruit?"

"It was the tea." He tucked the riding crop under his arm and adjusted the fit of his gloves, as if poisoned tea were nothing to be concerned about. "The fruit was a gift to me from a delightfully conniving orange seller in the 17th century. She desired an introduction to the theatre, which I generously bestowed. I believe her name is Nell." He paused, considering. "Or is it Gwyn?"

"Is?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Is, was, will be . . ."

She shouldn't have bothered. Whenever he talked about time, she ended up more confused than if he hadn't tried to explain it at all. "Whatever. I don't really care. The point here is, whether it was tea or historical oranges or moon dust, it is not okay to drug people! You could just ask, you know."

He raised a brow. "And my success rate with that would be?"

She curled her fingers into a zero and mouthed the word.

"Precisely. Which is why I chose to employ a much more efficient method." He turned to walk further into the stable. "Really, Sarah, you only bring it on yourself."

"There are so many things wrong with that statement I don't even know where to begin."

"So don't."

Everything in her line of sight took on a reddish hue, but she held her tongue. If she had learned anything from her experiences with the Labyrinth, it was to pick her battles with the Goblin King. If she took issue with everything questionable he said, she would be raving like a lunatic nonstop. With little other option outside of aimlessly wandering the castle grounds, she followed him. He was her ride home.

Jareth had made his way to the far end of the stable, and she shuffled down the aisle toward him, taking her time to look around. It smelled of horses and hay, but it was a clean scent—fresh and outdoorsy. Almost all of the stalls were equipped with a horse—large ones, small ones, all varieties of colors. She made a point of making eye contact with each one as she passed. It was a habit of hers, she'd discovered. Whenever she met any sort of creature that may have spent any amount of time with Jareth, however insignificant, she made sure to look in its eyes. She was looking for clues, she supposed. Were they happy? Were they treated well? She approached a large black stallion that had its head hanging over the gate. She stroked its cheeks as it snuffled in her coat. Coming up empty, it blew softly at her, gazing at her with large brown eyes, calm and content, and she felt herself relax a little. Every time, despite her long-standing prejudice, the answer seemed to be yes. She rested the side of her face on its long snout as she looked toward Jareth to find him watching her.

He nodded at her slippers. "New fashion statement?"

She closed her eyes briefly as she tried to hold onto the calm she'd found only a short moment ago. She was going to need it. She gave the horse one last pat and walked across the aisle to where Jareth was lounging against the last stall. "No. Yet another reason you should ask a girl before whisking her off to other worlds."

She knew, in situations such as these, her best course of action was to humor him. If she let him say what he wanted to say, or show her what he wanted to show her—bonus points if she acted suitably impressed, which, granted, wasn't that difficult—he returned her to her less unbalanced everyday life little worse for wear. Usually.

She sighed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. "So . . . what was it you had to show me?"

Jareth waved a hand at the stall next to him. "This."

It looked empty from where she stood. She took a few steps toward it and peered over the edge. What she first took for a white horse raised its head at her approach to display the golden horn, slightly tarnished, protruding from the center of its forehead.

"Oh my—" her brain stuttered in shock, words backing up on her tongue "—is that a . . . is that what I think it is?"

"Not likely."

It pawed its golden hooves in the damp ground, kicking up clots of mud, and snorted in her general direction. It looked at her blankly from behind a thick, matted mane of dirt white. She held its gaze, trying to find the connection, but it just wasn't there. It was almost like its soul was missing.

"Jareth, what's wrong with its eyes?"

He folded his arms across the top of the stall to look down at the animal. "It's blind."

"Blind?" She clicked her tongue and reached toward it. "Aww, you poor—"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She stopped, her hand hovering. There wasn't a lot Jareth wouldn't do, so she never took that warning lightly. "Why not? Are you implying that I'm not innocent enough or something?"

He laughed, a low rumble deep in his throat. "The question of your innocence aside, it would be an incredibly stupid decision."

She let her hand drop to her side and narrowed her eyes. "Elaborate."

He moved to stand behind her, and she held her breath, all nerve endings on alert. He bent his head level with hers, his hair tickling the side of her face as he pointed over her shoulder. "Look closely, Sarah. Do you see the rust-colored markings on its coat, the dripping stains around its mouth? Do you know what that is?"

She tried to focus, to ignore the adrenaline rushing her system, to ignore him, and considered the creature. She let out a small gasp, stepping back against Jareth's chest as realization dawned. "It's blood."

"Human blood."

She startled at the feel of his breath on her ear and spun away from him, backing out of his reach. She looked at the unicorn critically and then back at Jareth. _Human blood? What the hell?_ "Why is it everything you touch becomes twisted and depraved?"

He smiled in that devilishly smug way of his. "Is that what you're frightened of?

She narrowed her eyes again. "Don't turn this into something stupid. I'm talking about the unicorn."

He laughed, moving to take her place at the front of the stall. "Shall I tell you the story? I know you were fond of stories once."

"If you must."

"The short version, then." He winked at her and leaned backward against the stall. "This _depraved_ beauty has been wandering the labyrinth that twists beneath the city of Budapest for the last half-century. You see, once, many years ago, I spent a brief period of time in the Carpathians, a sort of visiting scholar, for lack of a better term. I had heard rumors of a new sort of nightmare, which, naturally, was of philosophical interest."

"Naturally."

He raised a brow at her dry tone but kept on with the story. "As you well know, all Fae feed on humans in some way. In this case, it was blood."

"Vampires."

He nodded. "Yes. Well, vampyre. There was only the one that we knew of, and how it came to be remains a mystery."

"Who's 'we'?"

"At the time, there was a brotherhood—light Fae—in residence. They took it upon themselves to organize, intent on a heroes' quest to defeat the monster, with unicorns, pure of heart and soul, as the chosen steed to ride into battle against darkness." He paused, a sneer curling his lip. "Fools." He swished the riding crop from side to side, his condescension fading swiftly to apathy. "I did warn them about playing the hero. In the end, they all succumbed, turned and craving the very thing that would be their death. Too much iron in mortal blood, you understand. With every taste, with every small satisfaction, they slowly turned to stone. It has added an interesting artistic aesthetic to the tunnels. The labyrinth is rather crudely done." He turned to consider the animal once more. "The unicorns, on the other hand, having a vastly different physiology, were turned and left to scavenge. Most have been killed off over the years. She may very well be the last of her kind."

Sarah took a step closer, pushing up onto her toes to peer at the unicorn from a safe distance. "She's the very last one, the last unicorn?"

"Quite possibly. They were already near extinction before that sophomoric crusade." He tilted his head to look at her. "I had thought to try breeding her," he offered her his most charming smile, "which is why you're here. My prize stallion, your knack for manipulating every creature–"

She sighed dramatically, which is the only way that usually registered. "It's called making friends."

His smile morphed into something more smirkish and annoying. " _Making friends_ , then. The end result is the same. If the breeding is to be successful, though how we define success is yet to be determined, a talent such as yours may prove useful."

Sarah shook her head. This was beyond bizarre, even for Jareth. And she failed to see how her _talents_ could be any help at all. Why was he dragging her into this? What could he possibly gain from it? Breeding a blind, blood-sucking unicorn? Any way she looked at it, it seemed like a very bad idea.

She braved the stall, propping her elbow on the ledge and resting her chin in her hand, studying the unicorn. It paced, raising its nose toward her, taking audible breaths. "Why does everything about this seem horribly wrong? Aren't unicorns all about innocence and purity and virginity, and you want to set up a booty call with some big stud, which she has no choice about whatsoever?"

"If you're going to be missish about it . . ."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you read Jane Austen now?"

"Several times over, I'm afraid. All that agonizing if Ms. Bennet and Mr. Darcy will ever get together—tiresome. They should skip right to the gratitude and pleasure and be done with it." He scoffed. "As if there were any question. I keep hoping that I can persuade Miss Austen—"

She gasped, raising her head. "You wouldn't!"

"—to no avail. Your so-called classics are so entrenched in the time continuum they're nearly impossible to dislodge."

"Well, that's a relief."

"You haven't heard my version."

"I'll pass, thank you very much. Some things don't need to be improved on. Which reminds me—" she turned to face him "—was it entirely necessary to add a giant squid to the bog? Wasn't it disgusting enough already?"

"Ah, yes, that. An interesting—some might say fortuitous—result of my recent travels. A few weeks ago, I had returned to the Scholomance to do a little research regarding the possible whereabouts of the unicorn, only to inadvertently pick up a stow-away on the return trip." He paused, considering her for a moment. "What I'm about to explain to you is a bit complex. Do try to follow along without your usual string of inane interruptions."

Sarah took that moment to imagine what Jareth would be like as a statue—pretty to look at, but silent. She wasn't sure if he was Fae; he'd said the words "light Fae" as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. Did that mean he was dark Fae? Or maybe something else entirely? She had skirted around the question several times before, but he had never offered up an explanation. He was a mystery. A pretentious, obnoxious mystery. Her train of thought brought to mind one of Toby's favorite questions that she never seemed to have a good answer to: "If you had a superpower, what would it be?" Today it would be making goblin kings shut the hell up through sheer force of will.

She glared, not daring to actually make such a wish. "Just spit it out already. I really don't have time for this. I want to go home sometime today."

He was watching her closely, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as if he knew what she was thinking and found it amusing. "So demanding—an admirable trait. I'll try my best to live up to your expectations." He shifted closer to her, leaning in and lowering his voice. "While our boy heroes were plotting their grand adventure, I was diverted by a curious phenomenon in the surrounding lake—a mass squid migration. They seemed to have organized and were intent on getting to the other side, though dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. They had a leader—a young female who dreamed of something more—something much, much more than the dreams of her compatriots with their simple, water-logged minds. We had a _tete-a-tete_ , and, being of a generous nature, I granted her wish. By my grace, she became the majestic creature she is today—nearly a hundred times the size and strength of her tiny, squishy brethren—fierce, beautiful, limitless.

"I had nearly forgotten about her, in truth. It had been centuries. It wasn't until she had firmly installed herself in my bog that I realized she had followed me home. You see, Sarah, magic forges a bond—unbreakable, timeless. When I granted her wish, I gave her a piece of myself, and, in a manner, bound her to me." When Sarah raised an eyebrow, he laughed lightly. "Not bound in the sense that she was subservient to me; the gift was freely given. Bound in the sense that we were connected—" he ran a finger along the button flap of her coat, finding a loose thread and, unraveling it further with a little coaxing, curling the strand around his finger "—by a thread, if you'd like. When I returned, she sensed my presence and latched on."

Sarah stepped back, breaking the thread he held her by. "The giant squid latched onto some tie she had to you and followed you through time and space so she could live in the Bog of Eternal Stench?"

"Basically. I imagine she had grown bored with her previous living arrangements. The school has been unoccupied for many years, having slid into the mists ages ago."

"And you're just going to let her stay there?"

He shrugged. "She seems content enough, and she provides her own food source, eating her own young—"

"She eats her own young?"

"From what I recall of her dreams, being a mother wasn't one of them. It is a rather curious side-effect, this nearly constant asexual reproduction, though it's not unusual for a creature to be changed by the Labyrinth in some way. All considered, she adds an interesting new challenge to my Labyrinth, and my subjects seem to be heartily enjoying the new addition to their menus, so, in what should appeal to your sensibilities, everybody wins."

"Except the baby squid."

"Naturally. But that's beside the point."

"I'm not sure you ever have a point."

"I always have a point. You just persist in willfully misunderstanding it."

She held up a hand to block out his face. "Enough with the _Pride & Prejudice_ analogies. Because I see what you're doing there. And this," she gestured vaguely, "is not the same thing."

He smiled. "Is that so?"

She sighed irritably and sank onto a nearby hay bale. This whole day had spiraled so far out of her control . . . She was letting him distract her again, pulling her along into whatever game he was playing like dangling a baby in front of a goblin. Not today. Today she had things to do, things to make right.

She leveled a stern look at him and folded her hands in her lap. "You know what, Jareth? We're not even going to discuss it because that's how 'so' it is. You know what else we're not going to talk about? The unicorn. In fact, we're not going to talk about anything but what we should be talking about, which is what we're going to do about Ludo because, from what I heard, if it wasn't for your new pet, this would have never happened."

Sarah watched expectantly as the change came over him—the stiffness creeping into his posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the amusement dropping like dead weight from his smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. _Poor Jareth. She'd spoiled the game._ But the end of one game was only the start of another, and she wasn't going to make the first move. She held his cool gaze and waited. Anyone else would have been frightened, and maybe she should be. She knew she pushed him like no one else dared to. Sometimes she had good reason, like now, and other times it was almost instinctual—she just had to push back even if in the pushing she stepped out of bounds. And, curiously enough, he let her do it.

When he shifted to lean back against the stall, she sat up straighter, pulled out of her thoughts. He spoke as if he'd rather be talking about anything else, but it was more boredom than bite. "What is there to do? Ludo has been uncharacteristically productive, having built his own cell—"

"Cell?"

He raised a brow. "Pen?"

She met his derision with the most disapproving look she could muster, and then rolled her eyes, indicating with a wave of her hand for him to continue.

"—and now he's safely ensconced in quarantine. I hadn't thought calling rocks could be useful outside of terrorizing goblins, but, apparently, it does have its benefits. He even has company."

"If you call a bunch of rocks company."

He shrugged and began to walk back toward the castle as if the matter were settled.

Sarah took a moment to process what had just happened and then jumped up to follow him. "You've got to be kidding me! He was helping me out by rebuilding that bridge and your kraken of a girlfriend attacked him! It should have been me that fell in the bog. You can't just leave him like that, Jareth! It's cruel and inhumane and—" she struggled to find the right words to express her disgust "—it's not f—"

"Ah, ah, ah." He turned on her and closed the short distance between them. "Didn't we just bury that phrase, quite literally?"

She pressed her lips together and glared up at him.

So what if they did? Whoever heard of burying a piece of paper, anyway? And she was pretty sure he'd cheated. She had picked that game out special, absolutely sure she would win. Seriously, what chance did a Goblin King have to win Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit? She was born to play that game! Of course, she should have known better. It had all come down to a final question—if she lost, she had to rebuild the bridge in the bog, and if she won, a wish, anything she wanted. She didn't even know what she wanted, but whatever it was, she wanted it. When she got the question wrong, which still burned, she made a desperate bargain for a do-over, offering up a sort of double or nothing: in addition to rebuilding the bridge, she would grant him a wish, whatever he wanted, if he won. On reflection, it was a really stupid thing to do. Burying the phrase "It's not fair" wasn't asking for much, all considered, though she hadn't expected him to insist on an actual funeral.

He affected a look of mock concern. "Oh, you poor, precious thing. This must be very difficult for you, not being able to use your words."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what I meant, and you know it's true."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "How ever will you bear it?"

"You can stop anytime now. I'll bear it well enough, and I'll hold up my end of the bargain. I'm not a sore loser, like another person I know."

"I don't lose."

"Okay, well, you might be on a winning streak lately, but I beat you once, and I'll do it again."

"So you keep saying."

"Well, words have power, don't they?"

He laughed, a low throaty sound. "So they do." He moved closer, invading her personal space. "Perhaps I should give voice to all my fantasies and they'll come true as well."

She resisted the urge to step back and lifted her chin. "If your fantasies involve helping Ludo, then go for it." She waggled her fingers. "Make it so."

"My fantasies are not nearly so altruistic—" he reached out to brush back a loose strand of her hair, lingering to trace along the side of her face"—however, there might be something I can do."

She batted his hand away. "At what price?"

He smiled in the most untrustworthy way possible. "You help me tame the savage beast, and I'll see what I can do to restore Ludo to his former unwashed, bog-free state. And, to sweeten the deal, I'll even offer you an open invitation to the castle grounds to visit as often as you'd like during his confinement."

She considered his proposal, trying to figure out what might be hiding beneath the words, because something always was. "Why is it that you always seem to want my time? Don't you have better things to do, like, I don't know, visiting 17th century theatres and pestering Regency-era authors?"

He responded with an arrogant tilt of his head. "Your insecurities are charming, as is your ignorance."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "That's the third time you've called me stupid today. Most people would take offense to that."

"Most people should. However, I did no such thing. You're merely uninformed. I'm always more than happy to educate you."

"I don't need you to educate me, and I'm not insecure. I don't care what you do or who you do it with. I was only trying to say that you have all the time in the world. I don't. I have a limited supply."

"Ah, so you do see the point. Your time is valuable, and, hence, worth the winning."

"Okay. Well, let's approach this logically, then. The way I see it, you owe me the time you stole from me in the Labyrinth. So, why don't you help Ludo, and we call it even?"

"Counter proposal: I will spend exactly three hours and twenty seven minutes on Ludo's unfortunate predicament, subtracting from that any visits to my Labyrinth, in such time, I may or may not be able to fix his little problem, or you accept my original offer, and we save those three hours for a rainy day."

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"You could always say no."

"You know I can't."

"Then it's settled." Propping his elbow on the nearby stall, he leaned down to eye level, much too close for comfort. "And how would you like to seal our deal?"

She held out her hand in the small space between them.

He glanced down at it, smiled, and took her hand in his. He met her eyes as he raised it to press his lips to the soft, fleshy base of her fingers. She sucked in a breath in surprise. He had never done anything like that before. It weirded her out, among other things she didn't care to acknowledge.

He let her fingers slide from his and turned to walk away. "I'll be in touch, Sarah."

Her hand hung limply in the air and then she snapped out of it. "Wait! How do I get home?"

He stopped and turned around, a predatory glint in his eye. He stalked toward her, and she matched his advance with retreat. Disorientated, she stepped back, bumping hard against the stall behind her. Before she could right herself, she found herself nearly horizontal, caught in Jareth's arms as he stepped between her and the stall. She pressed a hand against his chest in an instinctual effort to push him away, which would be a bad thing because he was holding her up. She looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes. "What are you doing?"

He leaned over her as if they were simply dancing and smiled sardonically. "Playing the fool." He nodded over his shoulder at the unicorn, golden hooves planted on top of the gate, fangs bared and nostrils flaring. "Perhaps, Sarah, you should reevaluate what you should be frightened of."

Sarah looked from the unicorn and back to Jareth, fixating on the sharp points of his smile. One suspect act of heroism did not make a Prince Charming out of a Goblin King. She knew better than that. She wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't be better off taking her chances with the unicorn. What she was sure of was that she was way over her crazy quota for the day.

She tried to get her feet under her and failed. The way he was holding her felt too intimate; her heart was racing and she was finding it a little difficult to breathe, but she wasn't about to hand that over to him wrapped in a big bow of obvious. She fought for calm as she met his gaze. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, so she settled on the safest words she could think of. "Thank you for saving me from the unicorn."

He seemed pleased by her response, which was not necessarily a good thing. He pulled her the slightest bit upright, bringing her in closer as his hand slid to the small of her back. "Tell me, Miss Williams, just how thankful are you?"

She put a little more oomph behind the hand still pushing against his chest. "Thankful enough to pretend you didn't just say that, so, when you send me home, right now, we'll end this otherworldly interlude on friendly terms, at least to the casual observer who doesn't actually know you."

He laughed lightly, amusement laced with something a little less pleasant. "Pretending—yet another thing you're extraordinarily skilled at. Since you've mastered that particular art, perhaps you should try another."

"My dad did always say 'Find something you're good at and stick with it.'"

"Very practical advice. And what about passion, Sarah?"

The way he dropped the word passion on her was all kinds of wrong in all the right ways. But she was going to ignore the warm fluttery feeling in her stomach and how it sunk down low in her gut to nudge the pent-up frustration hidden there because that was a dangerous game to play. And it was always a game with him. She was pretty sure this one was out of her league.

She straightened her spine and set her lips in a thin line and thought about a board, lots of boards, stiff and unyielding, all lined up in a row— _a fence!_ —a solid, unyielding, unbreachable fence between them. "You know what I'm feeling really passionate about right now, Jareth? Going home."

He smiled knowingly, arrogantly, and pulled her closer still, so close that she could feel the breath of his words on her lips. "Far be it for me to deny a lady's request. We'll just save it for that rainy day, though we may need more than three hours." Before she could protest, his brushed his fingers down over her eyes, and she felt her eyelids drop, sparks of glitter exploding in colors in the dark space behind them. "Now sleep, Sarah. Sleep and dream of me . . ."

"In your . . ." Her words trailed off as the spell took hold but in the last glimmer of alter-consciousness she thought she heard him say "Always."

~o0O0o~

Waking up on a freshly dug grave was a new one on her things-that-should-never-happen list, which had become a really long list. That it was little more than a pile of dirt in a park didn't make her feel any better about it. She added it to the reasons-I-loathe-goblin-kings list as she struggled to stand up, sinking up to her ankles in mud. She pulled her feet out of the muck, stepping to safer ground as she squatted, readjusting her balance to dig for her slippers—or what had been her slippers. She held them out in front of her for a moment before tossing them back into the mud where they could rest in peace.

She stood, took a deep breath, and screamed up into the sky, "You owe me a pair of slippers, damn it!"

She turned her anger on the pile of mud, glaring at it as she let her legs readjust to the real world, or at least that's how she thought of it, though she knew the Labyrinth was just as real. She was feeling more shaky than she usually did after one of Jareth's pseudo-dream trips, and she suspected the reason was less about skipping worlds than she wanted it to be.

A familiar something caught her eye, and she bent to dig again, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She shook off the clumps of mud and straightened it to find her own scrawled handwriting. She was tempted to fold it up and put it in her pocket, consequences be damned, but she thought better of it and shoved it forcefully back into the mud. There really wasn't much point in stating the obvious, was there?

Feeling a little better orientated, she set off for her house, taking the shortcut through the woods and splashing in puddles along the way in an attempt to wash the mud off her feet and hands. She pulled the hood of her coat up over her head as she reached her street, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing she needed was to be known as "the weird girl" in the neighborhood. It had been a bit of a problem living in an apartment. She was really hoping, now that she had her own little house, to keep all the crazy and magic contained and her neighbors in the dark. She wasn't off to a good start.

When she finally reached her back door, she sighed in relief, running up the stairs. She walked in and called out to her friends. "Hoggle? Didymus?" The smell of oranges still hung in the air and her stomach growled.

Sir Didymus rounded the corner from the kitchen. "Ah, my lady! We wondered where you had disappeared to."

"Take a wild guess."

"Ah, yes, well . . ."

She bent to squeeze the water out of the cuffs of her jeans, rolling them up over her calves. "Where's Hoggle?"

"On the veranda enjoying a picnic."

"You didn't go with him?"

"I didn't want to intrude." He had the grace to look ashamed.

Sarah stood and sighed. "Didymus, I thought you were going to talk to him about that."

"Yes, well, I did bring up the concern, my lady, but . . . the heart wants what the heart wants, does it not?" He smiled hesitantly. "Cup of tea?"

"Never, ever again."

She left Didymus to ponder her seemingly new hatred for tea as she made a beeline for the front door. It seemed like she was going to have to have that talk with Hoggle after all and she really was hoping to avoid that. She hung her coat up on a peg in the entryway and then peered out the peephole to find the situation just as she suspected.

The funny thing about running the Labyrinth was that ever since that night she had been able to see all the various creatures of legend that were actually very, very real. And it just so happened that she had a fairy that liked to nap in her aloe plant. The not-so-funny thing was that Hoggle had developed a bit of a crush, which was incredibly inappropriate given that he spent his days frying fairies with noxious fumes.

Granted, she had it on good authority that this would not be as big a deal to the fairy as it was to her. According to Jareth, fairies belonged to clans, and the clans had a rather violent history, so her little aloe plant fairy would probably be perfectly okay with it, and might even want to join in on the fun. But, still, it was the principle of the thing. And it was gross. And the physical logistics—

Nope. She was not even going to think about that.

Instead, she turned and sagged back against the door and thought about that afternoon a few weeks ago when Jareth had told her about the fairies. What had started out as a simple card game had quickly spiraled down into a twisted, sucking hybrid of Bullshit and Truth or Dare, a game she lost, again. That time he had her help him sort through a backlog of goblin complaints while he supervised, playing with his crystals and doling out justice as she read out each one. Now that she thought back on it, it had been kind of interesting, getting a glimpse into the inner workings of the Goblin City, and maybe even a little bit fun. Jareth had been less obnoxious that day than usual.

Giggling on the other side of the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She resisted the urge to open the it. She'd had about all she could handle for one day, and now was not the time for that conversation.

Leaving Hoggle to his indiscretions, she headed toward the kitchen, calling out to Sir Didymus, wherever he had wandered off to. "Hey, Didymus? I'm just going to wrap up some food for Ludo. I'm not sure quarantine includes a meal plan." Faced with all of the food crowding the countertops, she kept walking through to the dining room to dig out her Tupperware, still packed in a box somewhere. Just as she walked through the doorway, she stopped and screamed.

A few seconds later, Hoggle came running up beside her, hair mussed and cheeks flaming. She shook her head— _so inappropriate_ —and pointed at the wall opposite them. "What is that?"

"It's a door."

"Thank you, Hoggle. It's all clear now." He mumbled something about asking the right questions, which she chose to ignore. "So now that we've established what it is, why is it in my dining room, where it most definitely does not belong?"

Sir Didymus had come in through the other doorway and sidled up to the new addition to investigate. The door was old wood and metal and surrounded by an oozing black goo that was congealing into a kind of seal. Always the brave knight, he opened the door and poked his head inside without thinking twice about what might be behind it.

When he didn't say anything, Sarah took a step into the room. "Well? What is it?"

Sir Didymus turned slowly and glanced at Hoggle before offering her a hesitant smile. "It looks like an invitation, my lady. Which reminds me, I must be off. His Majesty will be needing his pre-evening sp—scrying attire." He avoided her eyes and whistled for Ambrosius, who came barreling in from the kitchen. Climbing up into the saddle, he sighed happily. "As they say, a King's steward's work is never done."

Something sharp and hateful bounced on the tip of her tongue, and Sarah bit down hard. Sir Didymus took his responsibilities seriously and she had no justifiable reason to belittle them. She hadn't been the best friend as of late, and there was no time like the present to start being a better one. "Thank you, Sir Didymus, for everything."

"Of course, my lady. For you, anything." He bowed in the doorway before disappearing through it to the other side.

"Gots to get going, too. Can't leave the gardens for too long," Hoggle said as he turned to head toward her bedroom. "See ya, Sarah."

She looked at him quizzically. "You're not going with Didymus?"

"What? In there?" He glanced nervously toward the door and his cheeks seemed to grow redder, which she hadn't thought possible. "What would I want to go in there for? I'd rather go jump in the bog." When Sarah's face fell, he winced. "Sorry, didn't mean to bring it up."

"It's okay. See you tomorrow?"

"Yep. See ya tomorrow." And then he was gone.

Sarah's curiosity piqued, she walked over to the door. She tried peeking through the crack Didymus had left, but all she could see was stone. _An invitation . . ._ She didn't like the sound of that. Deciding to be brave, because why the hell not, she pulled open the door to find a small hallway leading into a large extravagant bedroom, a pair of slippers just inside.

"Way to stay classy, Goblin King."

Not knowing what else to do, and being so very tired of this day, she pulled the door closed and set to blocking it off with every box she could find. That door wouldn't be there for long, not if he wanted his precious castle to remain standing, because she would take that sucker down brick by brick if she had to. But that discussion could wait until tomorrow.

Shuffling into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of wine, the cordless, and a pamphlet from the countertop, taking it all with her into the bathroom. Her bath had gone cold, though the room still smelled of lavender. She supposed he had a 50/50 shot of getting it right, but why he even bothered to ask, she couldn't fathom. She didn't have the heart to tell him his sense of smell was gone.

Deciding to stick with lavender rather than the vanilla, she started over. As the tub filled, she checked her phone for a dial tone. Satisfied, she stripped down, leaving her clothes in a heap on the floor as she slid into the steaming water. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, letting the tension seep from her muscles as the heat worked its magic, before gathering up her phone and the pamphlet she had picked up at the community center earlier that week. She flipped it open to the first page:

  
**Are you a compulsive gambler?**   
**_Have you ever felt remorse after gambling?_ **   
**After losing, did you feel you must return as soon as possible and win back your losses?**   
**After a win did you have a strong urge to return and win more?**   
**Did gambling make you careless of the welfare of yourself, your family, or your friends?**   
**Have you ever gambled to escape worry, trouble, boredom, or loneliness?**   
**There is hope.**   


She had to do something. It might as well be this. She dialed the 800 number at the bottom.

"Hello. This is Denise. How can I help you with your gambling problem?"

"Hi, Denise." Sarah sunk further into the water, grabbing the bottle of wine and resting her head on the back of the tub. "So, I'm not really sure where to begin, but I guess it all really started when I filled out a runn—customer satisfaction survey . . ."

~o0O0o~

_**The End** _

~o0O0o~

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dansemacabre for the Labyrinth Fic Exchange on LiveJournal. Many thanks to sisterthemoon for beta-ing this for me!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)


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